


Picture Perfect

by AngelsGuts



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Also Jason took up photography, Angst, It focuses on him because he's my Son, This is a story from Jason's POV kinda, Whizzer's dead and Marvin's dying, jason is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 06:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsGuts/pseuds/AngelsGuts
Summary: Jason's losing his dads left and right and just needs to speak with Whizzer and let out some of the sadness that's so deeply embedded into his heart.





	Picture Perfect

“I wanna speak with Whizzer,” Jason sighed softly, tinkering with the lens of his Polaroid 600. He held it up to the window of the car, adjusting knobs and catching a picture of an old house they always passed when they made their way to or from the hospital.

“Speak with whom?” Mendel asked timidly, peeking in the rear view mirror to look at Jason. He had half hoped that, perhaps, he misheard him. He didn’t understand how Jason couldn’t, after all the time they’d spent together, move past wanting to visit Whizzer’s grave all the time. Maybe it was because now his father Marvin was also in the hospital. Maybe the two of them used to frequent the grave together, and now Jason didn’t have that outlet. Maybe Mendel simply wasn’t making a good enough impact on the kid. He didn’t know.

“With Whizzer,” Jason repeated, shaking the image until the form of a house began to seep through the black.

“With Whizzer…” Trina sighed, almost forlorn. While her relationship with Whizzer wasn’t perfect, she had to admit that it was something that she had grown to treasure. While at one time she envied the man, she now almost… Admired him. It truly saddened her that her fondest memories with him were in the hospital, where he laid in bed, sick and pale and thin and frail, wearing the same smile he always had. They joked, and bonded, and became closer and closer; where that was before he was sick… Well, that was on her. 

“With Whizzer,” Mendel hummed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Thoughts raced through his mind. On one hand, a bit of envy pricked in his heart, but on the other, a dulled, pulsing empathy. Jason was going through so much… He’d already lost one man he saw as a father, and was now losing another. Soon, he would have half the family he had to begin with, and that was most certainly taking its toll.

The very least he could do, he supposed, was let the kid see his late father. It wasn’t a difficult request, and the cemetary was just down the road a ways. “Alright,” Mendel sighed, nodding to himself. “We’ll go see Whizzer.”

“Can I go alone?” Jason asked, looking up at his parents for the first time the whole car ride. “I want to talk… Just us…”

Mendel looked at Trina, who only nodded. “Okay, Jason, you can go alone. We’ll stay in the car.”

“Take your time, alright?” Trina added, turning to look at her son. “As much time as you need.”

Jason offered her a sad smile, then nodded. 

\- - -

Jason was 14 now. He took up photography very shortly after Whizzer passed away. His most treasured possession was the picture of him at his Bar Mitzvah, surrounded by his family - his  _ whole  _ family. He kept it near his bed, next to pictures of his father Marvin and Whizzer’s headstone, so that Whizzer could be with him and watch over him, happily seated next to his lover. Second to that was Whizzer’s leather jacket, that his dad Marvin wore for a while after his passing. Now that he too was sick, it became Jason’s. It felt sort of like an heirloom, though Jason didn’t think an heirloom should be passed around so quickly. Still, he loved it, and wore it often, including of course today.

As he made his way through the graves, he counted his steps. Whizzer’s grave was exactly 83 steps from the road, walking normally. Jason would count down, like he was waiting for the ball to drop on New Years, or like he was playing Hide and Seek, and Whizzer was the target of his searching. That was sort of true, he supposed.

Upon arriving to the grave, Jason simply stared. He always felt a strange mix of warm and cold here; surrounded by his essence, but shocked to the core with the reality that there  _ was  _ no essence. Still, he liked to pretend there was. Moments passed, and soon Jason was sitting cross legged in front of the headstone. Perhaps some people saw it as disrespectful to walk or sit where someone was buried, but Jason saw it more like he was sitting on his lap, or leaning against him on the couch. It was close, intimate, and homey.

He sighed. Tears bubbled in his eyes, and for just a moment he considered letting them fall. He didn’t, though. Whizzer wouldn’t want to see him sad. Whizzer would tell him to wear a smile, to keep his chin up. Whizzer would tell him that he’s right there, that he didn’t have to cry or be scared. Whizzer would tell him that everything was alright. It wasn’t alright, but for Whizzer’s sake, perhaps he would believe it just for a moment. He liked to pretend that he was just on a phone call, and Whizzer had to be very quiet, or else he would be caught slacking off at work or something. Whizzer would always make time for him, whenever he could, whenever he was asked. Whizzer loved to play and to just  _ be  _ with him. Jason liked it, too.

Jason sat in silence for a few moments, simply mourning and running memories through his mind. Sometimes amidst the silence, he would smile, or laugh, only to feverishly wipe his eyes to prevent the tears that so desperately wanted release from escaping their prison.

“Oh, Whizzer,” Jason began, laughing softly. He tinkered with his camera, then looked back at the headstone. His eyes trailed the engravings, already knowing every word, every design, by heart, yet still running it through his mind, because every time it felt less and less real. The more that time went on, the more it felt like perhaps this was all just a really long, really horrible nightmare that he simply hadn’t woken up from yet. Dreams felt like that, sometimes. Sometimes dreams felt like they lasted years.

“Dad’s going to be with you, soon…” Jason said softly, eyes running through the grass next to his thigh. His fingers brushed against the soft green, combing through the blades like they were strands of hair; something he’d seen his father Marvin do to Whizzer in times of extreme sadness or intimacy. “He’s looking really sick. A lot like you did… At my Bar Mitzvah… Just like you, he tells me not to worry, but I know he’s scared. I know he’s been scared, since you d-” The words caught in his throat, choking him up and robbing him of the ability to speak. He took a deep breath, body trembling, before continuing. “Well… At least you’ll be together again…”

It was hard… It was hard to keep your head up when people you loved were dying. It was hard  _ not  _ to cry,  _ not  _ to be scared,  _ not  _ to wish things had gone differently. It could have been anyone else,  _ anyone else  _ in the world! Why did it have to be his dads? And why so close together? Why them, of all people? Surely they weren’t perfect, but they were making their way towards it pretty well, in Jason’s opinion! If they all just had a little more time… If the world slowed, if the sickness stopped, if the heartache halted. If he could just have his big, happy family again. Those few months where everyone got along, where things were… Okay… And if Whizzer were healthy during those few months, and if they all banded together and really  _ were  _ a family. Past the fighting and the petty arguments and the pain and the anger and the anguish. With Charlotte and Cardelia, with Trina and Mendel, with Marvin and Whizzer. Six people, five people, four people… Would he keep losing them like this? One by one, until he had nobody left? The thought terrified him; he couldn’t go through this again. What would he do when his father died? How close they’d become in the time after Whizzer’s death, until he too was hospitalized with the same damn deadly disease as his partner.

He couldn’t help it… No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. No matter how strong he tried to be, for Whizzer, for Marvin, for Trina and Mendel and Charlotte and Cardelia, he couldn’t hold it all. It broke out of him like a burst dam, with hot tears and heavy sobs. Shaking shoulders, puffy eyes, a cracking voice. Desperately, he moved closer to the headstone. He needed Whizzer. He needed his dad. He needed his family to be okay again.

His arms wrapped around the cold stone, tears cleaning dirt from the surface in thin streaks. He sobbed. He sobbed, and he sobbed, clinging onto one of the last things he had left of a man so dear to him. He buried his face into his shoulder, the familiar leather both healing and harming him. While comforting for a few moments, it soon became very clear to him that  _ this. _ This jacket, this item, was soon to be not only for one dead man, but two. That this jacket would hold more memories and more pain than any other thing Jason could possibly think of. And yet, he needed it. It smelled like his dads’ house. It smelled faintly of leather polish and cologne. It smelled like security, familiarity, togetherness and family. It smelled like his ballgame, where his dads got back together and things began to be sort of alright. It smelled like his Bar Mitzvah, where everyone rejoiced and loved one another, and for just a moment forgot about the looming hand of Death over Whizzer’s shoulder. It smelled like dinner outings, between lovers, between family, between a father and son or a not-quite-father and son. It smelled like love…

It felt like hours when Jason finally came around enough to slowly, sadly, pathetically pull himself off of the headstone. He wiped his eyes again, sniffled, then smiled. He liked to leave Whizzer with something nice.

“Thank you, Whizzer…” He whispered, head tilting to the side a bit as he stared at the headstone. After a quick glance around him, Jason sat forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the stone, then stood up to take his leave. He felt better now, now that he had cried and let out so much of that pain. He knew he would be in for a Hell of a ride still, with his father Marvin following so close behind his lover, but… At least, right at that moment, things felt still.

\- - -

Gentle sunshine leaked through the leaves of maple trees, the sunset illuminating the graveyard with a Heavenly light. The world, for only a moment, slowed to a stop, and it was almost as though Whizzer was running a hand through Jason’s hair, mussing it up and laughing, just as he always did.

The warmth from the skies and the warmth from within gently coaxed Jason to leave his post, but not without a parting  _ I love you. _


End file.
